


Not Keeping Count

by bluflamingo



Category: Political Animals
Genre: Breakfast, Happy Ending, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Post-Series, mention of past suicide attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluflamingo/pseuds/bluflamingo
Summary: TJ wakes up too warm, the kind of too warm that means someone else in bed with him – an arm around his waist and soft breath against the back of his neck, skin to skin





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/gifts).



No-one really makes much of a fuss about the second time.

The first time, sure – Douglas and Anne always ask if TJ wants them to come visit, and since they had Bobby, if they can bring Bobby down to see Uncle TJ, because TJ is a complete sucker for his nibbling. Mama asks him does he want to come home, or if he will come home, and calls in the morning, in the between meetings, when TJ's eating dinner (not at home, because home is the White House, and the White House is not home). If he's unlucky, she texts him at night as well, which always wakes him, because the first year after, when he turned the ringer on his cell off, she called his landlord to check on him. Which was awkward for many reasons, not least that he turned his ringer off because he was _in bed with a guy, Mama, what the hell?!_

So, yeah, the annual marker of the first time TJ tried to kill himself is kind of a big deal.

The second time is… the second time is the time that he half meant it and half didn't; the day that he woke up feeling like everything was going right, finally, for once in his life he'd made it work; the day he decided fuck it because none of it was worth anything and it didn't matter what he did, he was never going to be able to do it right and everyone knew.

The second time is not a big deal.

Which is why TJ's surprised to wake up warm – too warm, the kind of too warm that means someone else in bed with him – an arm around his waist and soft breath against the back of his neck, skin to skin. 

He's smiling before he even opens his eyes, because there's only one person that could sneak into his apartment – into his _bed_ \- without him noticing. 

Curled around TJ, Clark laughs soft in his ear. "Good morning."

TJ snuggles deeper into his embrace, all curled up and close. Best morning in two weeks, four days – not that he was counting. "Good morning." The words get him a kiss just behind his ear, and that's enough for TJ to turn over into a real kiss. Clark tastes of coffee and cinnamon buns, familiar from a hundred and more mornings over the last seventeen months, two weeks, three days.

Seventeen months, two weeks, three days that were exactly 365 days after TJ refused Secret Service protection for the last time.

Not that TJ's counting. Not that TJ was counting, at the time. 

(TJ was totally counting, because he and Clark had an agreement, the good kind, but they had to wait a year, and a year was an eternity, even broken down into days.)

TJ sleeps in pajama pants, because his apartment is always too cold for anything less, and Clark's stripped down to just his boxers, and it's been nearly three weeks, so it doesn't take long for things to ramp up well past kissing.

"Wait," TJ manages, breathless and struck with an abrupt and horrible thought. "Wait, are you here for my mom?"

Clark freezes, drops his head heavily into TJ's pillows, face scrunching up. It's so cute – Clark would say that he's a badass secret service agent, not cute, but he'd be wrong – that TJ has to kiss him again.

"I thought we agreed not to talk about the President when we're in bed," Clark says when TJ lets them up for air again.

They did: she's Clark's President, his responsibility to keep safe, and she's TJ's mom who he loves and ran away from, and no good comes of talking about either of those people.

Suddenly cold, TJ tucks himself into Clark's body warmth, head on his chest listening to Clark's heart slow. Clark's hand slips into TJ's hair, and TJ shivers. "You're not here with her, right?" 

He hates the way his voice shakes on the question – hates how obvious the anxiety is, even with Clark who he trusts, damnit, who he loves. It's just… it's just that TJ ran as far north as he could without going to Alaska, because he loves his family but sometimes he can't breathe around them. Especially today, three years exactly since they said they wouldn't come to the club opening. 

"I'm not here with the President." Clark's arm goes tight around TJ, and he presses a kiss to the crown of TJ's head. "I'd have warned you if anyone was coming into town, I promise."

"I know," TJ whispers. He does. It's just hard.

Well, not any more it's not. Talking about his family is a definite boner killer.

"Sorry," he adds, swallowing down the dick joke. And the one about swallowing, actually.

Clark just pets TJ's hair, like TJ didn't have a crazy moment in the middle of making out, or maybe like it doesn't change anything that TJ had a crazy moment, except for how it means TJ needs a hug now. 

TJ loves him for a lot of reasons, but even if he didn't, he might love Clark just for how he treats TJ like he's normal.

"I talked to Sam. Traded next weekend, caught the first flight out this morning."

TJ presses a kiss to Clark's chest, tension easing away. Just the two of them. It's fine. Clark tips TJ's chin up, kisses his mouth. "Everything's fine," he says softly.

TJ shivers with the last of the tension and kisses back. He's warm, and he's got his boyfriend half-naked in his bed, kissing him deeper and deeper. It's a good morning.

*

The best thing about TJ's apartment – the reason he moved in, despite the occasionally noisy pipes and the heating that never gets quite warm enough in the middle of winter – is the huge kitchen window that bathes the whole room in warm light as soon as the sun gets over the horizon. Some days, the best part of his entire day is drinking coffee in the beam of warmth and golden light.

With Clark there, still shirtless, a faint bruise smudged over his collarbone and a smile curving over the rim of his coffee mug, it's the best part of TJ's day, no matter how good the rest of the day might get. 

"You've got class today, right?" Clark asks.

TJ pets Tibbles, the three-legged cat he adopted eight months ago, unable to walk away from her big sad eyes outside the pet store. "I could skip." He gives Clark his best sultry, through-the-eyelashes look, biting his lower lip. "I bet you could teach me something."

Clark just looks at him, until TJ cracks and starts laughing. "That's a no on going back to bed?" Clark nods. "Then yeah, I've got a Queer Theory lecture this morning, and Philosophies of Social Science seminar after lunch." He hesitates – Clark's only in town for two days, and then he won't be back for another three weeks – but his therapist is always going on about the importance of routine and having his life. It's a big part of why he's halfway through a degree at the biggest university in his new state, where he can blend in and people don't always realize he's _that_ TJ Hammond. 

"I've got a shift at the Center after," he adds. "I should be done by eight – we could… You could meet me there, after? There's a diner round the corner, it's pretty good."

"Ricky's." Clark nods, and TJ grins like an idiot, just because Clark remembers the name of the place TJ gets food after his twice weekly sessions supporting at addiction recovery groups in the neighborhood community center. "You think they'll have pie?"

"Usually chocolate on Wednesdays." Tibbles nudges TJ's hand when he stops petting her to drink his coffee. "Sorry," he tells her, rubbing between her ears. Clark reaches over to bat at the very tip of her tail, smiling when she _mrrs_ at him in irritation. 

"Then I'll meet you at the center."

"What're you going to do till then?" TJ strokes down Tibbles' back and links his fingers with Clark's. 

"Paperwork." Clark nods to the bag he left inside the door, which probably holds his tablet. "Maybe throw on some laundry. Borrow a book. Run down to the store for breakfast foods."

"You're planning to be here for breakfast, Agent Clark?" 

Clark circles the table, bends down to kiss TJ. "Every morning I can," he says.

It's not like TJ's counting or anything but if he was, well – losing count of mornings sounds pretty damn good.


End file.
